


sasha

by neckwear



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 12:12:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4746023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neckwear/pseuds/neckwear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Illya has been tortured, stabbed, shot at, and chased after, but he's never been as nervous as he is at 3:26 am on a frigid Monday in a hospital in December.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sasha

**Author's Note:**

  * For [katyfaise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katyfaise/gifts).



Illya has been tortured, stabbed, shot at, and chased after, but he's never been as nervous as he is at 3:26 am on a frigid Monday in a hospital in December.

He sits in a dingy hospital waiting chair with Napoleon sitting next to him, who's fallen asleep. But Illya, he downs one cup of coffee after another, his leg shaking anxiously as he awaits a doctor to come out and announce his name.

Truthfully, neither of them know who's baby it is. They don't care, really - they'll still raise the child regardless - but Illya can't help but feel a sense of dread at the thought of being a father. He could never imagine it; he barely had a father of his own, how could he raise a child with no prior example?

As for Napoleon, well, he was as smooth as ever. He didn't seem worried the slightest bit, simply helped Gaby with whatever she needed. Illya did, too, but he was more insistent on it - he would get groceries for her so she wouldn't have to, would walk close to her in public to help her get around - and she didn't need that sort of help, of course, but he somehow felt responsible. 

After all, that child could be his.

After scratching a line across his crossword puzzle on accident on account of being a nervous wreck and shaking uncontrollably (anyone would be, after six cups of coffee), he huffs and tries to, very calmly, set the book on the table, but it ends up sounding more like a slam, which wakes Napoleon.

He rubs his eyes, yawning, and sits up straight in his chair. "What's wrong?" he asks, still half asleep.

"I can not relax," Illya answers, looking straight ahead, cracking his knuckles out of anxiousness.

Napoleon looks him up and down, and chuckles. "It sure looks like it, too." Illya snaps his head over and glares at him, and he puts his hands up, a sign of defeat. "Just saying. I can take the watch."

Illya shakes his head, eyes wide open. "I want to be awake when the baby is born. And I have stayed up later than this."

Napoleon shrugs, settling back into his seat. "Suit yourself." He grabs a newspaper next to him and opens it, snapping it open crisply and for some reason it irritates Illya, and he sighs, uncomfortable, sitting back in his seat. 

After a half an hour of anxiety, of silence and of Napoleon trying to calm Illya down, a doctor comes out and walks towards the two of them. "Are you two Mr. Kuryakin and Mr. Solo?"

The two of them stand, fully at attention as he talks to them, and only Napoleon is able to get out an answer. "Yes. Is everything okay?"

The doctor smiles, brightly. "Everything went smoothly. Mrs. Teller would like to see you two alone."

The two men glance at each other before the doctor leads them to the hospital room, and when the two nurses see them, they both leave, and the doctor nods at them before he closes the door. 

Gaby is lying in the bed, holding the baby, and she looks up at them and smiles drowsily. "Hello."

Her hair is sticking to her forehead, and she's sweating, but Illya smiles tightly and immediately moves to her bedside, taking her hand as he kneels down to meet her eyes. "How are you feeling, medvezhonok?"

"Exhausted." She tries to laugh but it comes out as a huff, and then looks up and Napoleon. "It's a girl. And she already has a head of hair."

Napoleon smiles, his hands in his pockets. "Have you...decided on a name yet?"

"No, not yet," she answers, and looks down at Illya. "Would you like to hold her?"

Illya's grip on her hand tightens as he looks up at her, and he nods, wide eyed. Gaby carefully puts the baby in his arms, and she leans her head back against the pillow, and Napoleon begins to speak to her but Illya doesn't hear it. 

Illya looks at the baby, and suddenly in sets in that this is real, that the tiny human in his arms (and she is so small, so fragile, she could break by his hand but he could never do that to her, never, to this child he's only known for a minute or two but loves like he's known her for years) is his, or Napoleon's, and either way it doesn't matter because she is his daughter and he is her father and he has never felt more vulnerable in his life.

"Illya?"

He looks up at Napoleon, who's perched on the edge of the bed, his hand laid gently on Gaby's leg, comforting her. She's drifting off to sleep, but she glances down at Illya and the baby and smiles sleepily. "Huh?"

"Let me see the baby."

Illya stands up carefully, gently, and leans down slightly to hand the baby to Napoleon, who takes off his jacket before taking the baby in his arms. Illya watches closely and sees a smile come across Napoleon's face, looking up at Illya. "She's blonde."

Illya swallows, then nods, his face unchanging mostly because he doesn't want to cry right now, because with the amount of sleep he's had he easily could. "How wonderful."

Napoleon grins and looks back down at the baby, the smile never leaving his face. "I didn't think I would act like this," he says, and his eyes catch Illya's, who's own are unwavering on the baby. "But I'm elated. Aren't you?"

Illya nods again, then sighs. "She's so small." 

Gaby interjects, tiredly. "What about Sasha?"

The boys look over at her, and Illya tilts his head to the side. "Sasha?"

"For a name."

Napoleon grins. "I like it. Illya?"

"It's very pretty."

The three of them go silent, and it finally hits Illya, looking from Gaby to Napoleon to their baby (Sasha, as they had silently agreed upon) that just years ago he was alone in the world, with no family, and in just a few years he's made his own family, although unorthodox. 

He has never felt more wonderful.


End file.
